


We'll Be Best Friends

by Pearly_Pornography



Series: TD Mal Is A Snuff Director AU [3]
Category: Total Drama
Genre: Asphyxiation, Beating, Internal Conflict, M/M, Nyctophobia, Omorashi, Psychological Torture, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:11:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3663423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not okay to do this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Be Best Friends

**Author's Note:**

> told from Mike's internal POV. Brick Gets Rekt

He had been switched.

Usually, Mike tried to keep a strong hand on his front. But someone else had gotten in control all of a sudden. He was stuck. He could still hear and see and feel in the brain-space he sometimes called home. But he wasn't in control. He could tell.

He tried to recollect his memories. He was out getting ice cream with...Brick.

Oh god. Brick.

He hoped it was someone preferable. Not Chester or Vito, hopefully. Brick and Svetlana seemed to get along quite nicely, probably due to how she was slightly competitive, like a softcore Jo. Manitoba, on the other hand, seemed to see Brick as a younger brother figure. Chester found him a nuisance, and Vito would often threaten him.

But each one seemed to hit his ear at once. Vito first, as he was the most talkative. Each voice slowly rose. All were present. Not a one missing, right down to Svetlana wishing she could race Brick again.

He didn't want to believe it was Mal.

Unless the body was, perhaps, simply limp and out of commission, (which it wasn't) Mal was the only one who could be fronting. He pleaded to himself that someone would take over, because he didn't want to imagine what Mal would do to Brick. His best friend, who was strong in the muscles but frail in the soul. He couldn't bear to think about it, especially after what Mal had been doing as of late.

The murders did not go under Mike's radar, but he couldn't stop them. Mal was a superior force to Mike in every way. He may as well have owned this body now, and even then, Mal was sustaining him. With other people's lives, Mal was raking in money and keeping Mike in that shitty apartment rather than on the sidewalks.

But hurting Brick would be too far.

"Brick?"

His voice seemed to echo throughout, but nobody responded, aside from a slightly nervous Svetlana noise.

"Come on..."

_"Private, you've gone silent. Is something the matter?"_

_"What? No, not at all."_

If he could feel much of any sensation, his nerves would certainly be prickling right now. Maybe they were, he couldn't really tell at this point. He pushed and pushed but there was no movement. He was trapped, and at best, Brick would end up severely injured and traumatized.

"Oh god." He would speak, but nobody could hear.

"Is that Mister McArthur outside?" Svetlana sounded almost surprised, in that thick Russian accent of hers.

"The Malevolent One." Another voice. It was Manitoba.

"Y'don't have to call him that all the time!" Chester was present as well. Vito remained silent. He had little to say, so long as Anne Maria wasn't involved. Mike knew that better than anybody, for certain.

_"Say, Brickhouse. Wanna go checkout this cool abandoned house I found?"_

_"Did...did you just give me a nickname?"_

Mike could see Brick. He looked overjoyed. Mike wanted to reach out and tell Brick that this wasn't his friend, he wanted to save him, but he couldn't.

_"...I do believe I just did."_

_"Does this make us friends?"_

_"Don't be like that, we've always been friends."_

"Oh my god, Brick." His body was almost aflame, he felt. It was as though Mal put up an impassable brick wall, and though he yelled and screamed and banged his hands against it, not a single person could hear him.

"Don't bother." Vito finally piped up. Mike almost felt the sensation of a hand to his shoulder, but that may have just been an illusion.

"But if I don't, he'll, he'll..."

"Who cares? I never liked that pansy anyway."

"Don't you _dare_ call him that!"

Vito stopped speaking. He had to save him, he needed to, but he couldn't. Thoughts swam through his head, it almost felt like he was choking. His headspace had become a jail, and he was a prisoner to himself.

The view continued moving forward, until they reached Mal's workplace. It was clean, and the smell of dead bodies or excrement was nonexistent. With a flicker, the lights were shut off. Mike couldn't see a damn thing from in there.

Mal felt around the warehouse for a few minutes, his vision failing him. It was odd, since he prided himself in his ability to see in the dark, however, the lack of windows made it even darker than it would have been normally. A shaky breath echoed through the widened walls. A smirk sprawled across Mal's face, but it was impossible to see. It was Brick's fear of the dark.

_"Michael, this isn't funny, please turn the lights on..."_

Mike shouted, through the thick wall of his own damaged psyche, but he heard nothing. Nothing but Manitoba sighing in defeat. Brick was going to be destroyed like this. Mike knew, he knew better than anyone else did.

_"M-Michael?"_

_"Afraid of a little dark? Quit being a **pansy**."_

Pansy. Pansy. Pansy, pansy, pansy.

A month or two ago, Brick had made a confession to Mike, regarding something he buried in his past. It involved a toilet, and many hands, and a much younger, younger Brick, bilge water flowing through his nose and into his eyes. When he began to pound on the side, they freed him only to beat him down with hand and foot, so much that for a few minutes after, he couldn't even move. And in those moments of weakness, they'd berate him. They'd call him a coward, a baby, a **pansy.**

To say the word never left him would be an understatement. Mike understood this. As far as he knew, the whole system did. And Mal knew, he could tell by the intonation, the way he busted his smile out further at the sound of Brick deeply inhaling.

Then came the noise of a trickle of fluid. A loud, loud splatter, hitting the concrete floor like a waterfall, in the form of Brick's elimination issues, crossed with his anxiety tactic. It didn't really take much to make Brick urinate himself, Mike knew by now. (It's why he doesn't usually take him out.) 

_"T-turn on the lights!"_

He sounded frantic, voice shaking violently, like tremors through an ocean. He was crying. Mike could hear it in his breaths, that he was more scared than ever. His thick, muscular arms wrapped around his body, and if Mike were fronting, he'd return the embrace. But he wasn't, and Mal opted for smacking him in the face with his lower palm, sending the soldier tumbling backwards. His hands sped towards Brick's neck.

 _"Did I give you permission to touch me?"_ His knee jutted into his stomach, coating Mal's hands in a sticky, warm filth. _"You fucking puked on me, pansy."_

_"I'm sorry, please turn on the lights..."_

He flicked the lightswitch on, only to reveal Brick's pitiful state. Covered in piss and vomit, tear-stained, sweating and shaking, all because of the dark. It seemed irrational, but Mike knew how he was. Mal, on the other hand, simply returned his hands to Brick's neck.

When he'd struggle, Mal would momentarily remove one hand to press a bruise to Brick's face. There was purple dots all around, from his eyelid, to his cheek, to his lip, to his endlessly bleeding nose. He licked up the blood and spat it on the soldier's face. His maw was stained in deep vermillion, and his eye couldn't even open properly, and Mal didn't care of his welbeing.

He flicked the lights off. Mike wanted to cry, honest to god, he wanted to cry.

_"Is this better for you, **pansy boy**?!"_

There was no response. Mal gave him a kiss on the lips, despite his audible protest, tasting the metallic blood on his broken lip. With two hands, he split the lip further apart, as slowly as he could. Brick would only whimper.

_"This is what you call tough? Letting yourself get beaten up and pissing all over the floor? Why don't you just **die?!** "_

Mal was releasing his hold on the front. He was ready to switch back-- Mike didn't understand why, but he took it. The light flickered back on, and Brick was a mess. The biggest mess he had ever seen, quite frankly, and he was worried the poor guy might bleed out, but he shook that thought from his mind.

 _"Brick,"_ He muttered, guilt in his voice. _"Brick..."_

_"I'm sorry, I'll go. I-I'll go."_

That was the last Mike saw of his best friend for a long, long time.


End file.
